From The Stars Above
by MermaidGirl34
Summary: Harry Potter is a living miracle. As a fearless Gryffindor, he is surely afraid of nothing. Wrong. Harry is in fact very afraid of something: the dark. For as far back as he can remember, Harry has always been terrified of the dark and the night for one very specific reason...and it haunts him to this day. And this day, his fear has finally caught up with him. AU 1st book


**(This was written for Round 4 of Fanfiction Idol on the HPFC forum! The prompt is that it takes place at night. So, if you recall, this is a scene from the first book. I have re-written it in AU, and it takes place on a 'dark, cloudy night'. Two dark, cloudy nights, actually. Know what part I'm alluding? No? Well, you will. *smiles evilly* Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: This one-shot contains dialogue written by J.K Rowling. I do not own.)**

He knew he shouldn't be scared of it.

He wasn't. Not really. Scared wasn't the right word to describe his feelings for the dark. It was more like dread.

He dreaded the dark. And the night.

He didn't know why. It had always been a trait of his. An inner feeling of horror that came with the golden sun's disappearance on the horizon and the moon's grand takeover of the sky.

He hid it well. He was used to it now. The feeling. He had experienced it every night for as long as he could remember in his dank, dark cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley's. There was no light in there. None at all.

He used to cower inside that little, confined space. He used to try and stifle the whimpers so that he wouldn't wake his aunt and uncle and be punished.

After a while, he no longer whimpered. He no longer cowered.

He adapted.

But that did not make the feeling go away. The feeling of dread that came with the blackness.

And what that very same blackness brought with it.

No, as far as anyone knew, Harry Potter was not afraid of the dark. He did not freak out inside when he was confined in small areas, did not have to hold down the whimper when his dormitory was plunged into blackness when the moon was obscured, did not hate anything green. No, Harry Potter was not afraid of anything. He was the Boy Who Lived! He defeated Voldemort when he was a year old! Surely he was afraid of nothing?

Everyone was wrong on this very small fact though. Harry James Potter was, in fact, very afraid of the dark and the night, if not incredibly unnerved by it in itself and what it might bring.

Though he himself had no idea why.

He knew there must be a reason. There was a reason for everything, wasn't there? A reason why the sun came up in the morning and the moon rose at night? A reason why the light comforted him, the color green unnerved him, and the night sent shivers up his spine?

There must be a reason.

He just didn't know what.

He figured it had something to do with the nightmares. They came almost every night, if not every other. Some were normal, frightening dreams. Your everyday things: monsters, killers, giant snakes and huge spiders and the like.

But there was one that kept coming back. One that, after he woke, he could never remember completely.

The one that took place at night. In the dark.

The one where he was not afraid of the dark. The one where he _loved _the dark.

In the dream, he felt safe and comfortable and happy in the night because _they _were there. The people. The people he could not remember or every make out once he woke. The people that once his eyes opened gradually began to blur and fade away.

He knew that they loved him. That they cared about him and protected him and kept him for harm. He knew enough to know that they were the reason he did not fear the night. He had no reason to, not while they were there to comfort him and stand between him and danger.

But all that changed. In the dream, something happened. He didn't know what. He couldn't remember. All he knew was that something came out of the blackness, the night. It appeared as if out of nowhere, dressed in the colors of the night itself. It came toward him and his happiness and his protectors, and threatened them with its darkness.

His protectors did what he knew they would. They stepped in front of him, blocked the way of the dark, night-serving creature. He did not cry, for he knew that they would stop this evil being of the night from hurting him. Everything would be all right. The nightmare would be slain, and the fairy tale would have a happy ending.

It must have a happy ending, right?

But he was wrong. The dream did not have a happy ending. His protectors did not protect him. He was not safe from the night.

The servant of the darkness slayed his protectors. He saw them fall, in a flash of evil, poison green and he knew, somehow, in that moment, that he was no longer safe. He was no longer comfortable, no longer happy and no longer unafraid of the dark.

All protection gone, he began to cry.

The darkness began to advance. Slowly, like the shadows of the night itself, taking its time. It pulled out its weapon, forged by the night itself, and pointed it at him. Ready to end him. He knew it; he knew that this was the end. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to go, no one to shield him or protect him from harm.

Once more the green would overtake his vision.

And then all that was left was night. Black, black, black night, all around him. No touch, no sound, no sight, no any sense at all.

Only blackness.

Only night.

The last thing he would feel was a devastating blast of fear run through him, like a vat of horror being poured into his bloodstream.

And then he would awake in a cold sweat.

"GAH!"

Harry sat upright in his bed in a flash, sweating and breathing heavily, eyes wide.

Dark, blurry, blackness, dark darkdarkdarkdarkdark…

He couldn't see. He couldn't see!

"GAH! Gah, gah," he spluttered, head whipping around blindly, everything a black blur. He couldn't see, couldn't see, black….dark…

"Harry!"

Ron's voice broke through the fuzzy cloud of horror surrounding him and he stilled, turning toward the source of the sound.

"R-Ron?" he whispered, blinking and squinting, but still seeing nothing but dark blurs.

"Yeah, mate. Blimey, are you all right?"

"N-no," Harry whimpered. "I can't…I can't…see."

He heard a small grunt of laughter. "Well of course you can't!" a chortle came from somewhere in the darkness. "You don't have your glasses on!"

"Glasses…" Harry murmured groggily, taking this in before comprehending what his friend had said and starting to grope madly for his glasses in the darkness.

His hand hit something solid and it came crashing loudly to the ground.

He heard Ron wince at the sound. "What in the bloody- quiet Harry!" he hissed. "Do you want to wake the others up?" He paused for a moment, listening to the soft snores of Dean, Seamus and Neville coming from the other side of the room.

"They're still asleep," he exhaled, sounding relieved. "Here, I'll get your glasses for you. So you don't wake up the whole bloody school."

Rustling covers and footsteps on the dormitory floor met Harry's ears as Ron approached him.

A moment later, he felt cool metal grazing his hand. "Here, mate," Ron said gently and Harry opened his hand to grasp the round glasses before slipping them onto his face.

Instantly, the world came into focus and he blinked. It was still dark, but now everything was clear and crisp, and the bit of moonlight coming through the dormitory window made everything a whole lot less black.

He felt his heartbeat slow a tad and his shoulders relax, taking in the room's interior again, calming himself.

Ron was sitting precariously next to him on the bedspread, red hair a messy mop and watching his friend with worry-filled eyes.

"You all right?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah, fine," Harry said hazily, rubbing his eyes a bit, his voice even and more normal now that he had gotten his bearings.

"Did you have another nightmare?" Ron asked cautiously, searching his friend's shaken green eyes. "Like the other night?"

Harry didn't answer for a moment, biting his lip as he tried to recall the nightmare.

Darkness. Lots of it.

The mysterious, nameless and faceless protectors.

And the green light.

The same nightmare he had gotten for the first time since leaving the Dursley's a few nights ago.

Ron had wakened him up then too, shaking him into consciousness because he had been screaming.

"Yeah," he answered Ron finally, focusing on the light of the moon so he wouldn't have to see the confusion, worry and bit of curiosity in his best friend's face. "Same one. I'm fine now, though."

There was a small pause, and Harry waited for Ron to ask more about the incident, dreading what he would have to say, but to his relief, Ron didn't push it.

"All right, then," the youngest male Weasley said easily, shrugging and sliding off Harry's bed softly before heading back to his and pulling out his trunk. He hurriedly threw out a shirt and pair of pants.

Harry watched him, confused. "What're you doing?" he asked. "Aren't you going to go back to sleep? Breakfast isn't for a few more hours."

Ron turned to look at him as he pulled out his shoes, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously, Harry," he said, rolling his eyes and turning back to his trunk. "Did that nightmare give you memory loss? We're giving Norbert to Charlie tonight, remember? So I don't, you know, get killed or something?"

He raised his hand to show Harry his swollen wound from the little dragon, which looked pretty bad, even in the semi-darkness.

Harry winced, remembering the Norwegian Ridgeback that Hagrid had taken in as a pet all too well now that Ron had mentioned it, his memory returning as he slowly woke up completely. "Right," he said flatly, nodding as he too slipped off the bed and moved to get out his trunk.

"You have the Cloak, right?" Ron checked, his voice softer than before, more secretive.

Harry nodded once, slipping the dreamy piece of flowing fabric out of his suitcase and holding it up for him to see.

Ron smiled, a tad evilly. "I feel like we're doing something illegal," he whispered. "Like…like we're smugglers or something."

"We're not smugglers," Harry whispered back defensively. "We're helping relocate a baby dragon to a good home and saving Hagrid from being sacked. That's not smuggling."

"It's still an illegal dragon," Ron pointed out, putting on a clean shirt.

"Not _our _illegal dragon," Harry shot back, pulling on a pair of pants.

"Whatever," Ron murmured and Harry smirked, bending down to retrieve his shoes.

He heard Ron wince behind him and frowned, turning back to him.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Fine," Ron said dismissively, but his voice shook a bit with pain.

Harry's eyes narrowed and he glanced at Ron's arm.

His hand was swollen pretty badly with two red fang marks adorning the pale skin. It was slowly leaking puss too, Harry noted with unease.

He cringed. "That looks worse, now that I can see it clearly," he commented slowly. "Maybe you should have Pomfery look at it…?"

Ron's eyes widened and he clutched his injured hand to his chest, looking horrified. "And not go with you?" he gushed. "No way! 'Sides, I wanna see Charlie's friends."

But Harry was still eyeing the oozing puss. "Ron," he said seriously. "You need to go to the Hospital Wing. Now."

"It doesn't hurt!" the redhead complained defiantly, though Harry could clearly see the slight twist of pain in his features. "And what about the mission? I can't let you and Hermione go alone!"

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Harry assured, not wanting to dash his friend's pride. "We don't have infected dragon bites on our hands. You need to go to Pomfery, pronto!"

Ron opened his mouth as if to argue further, but ended up wincing instead, clutching his hand.

He looked up at Harry with a dejected face.

"Fine," he said glumly. "Say hi to Charlie's buds for me, will you?"

"Sure," Harry promised. "Now get!"

Ron nodded, before hurrying off to the Hospital Wing, leaving Harry alone.

With a sigh, Harry gathered up the Invisibility Cloak and slipped it over his head before leaving the dormitory and closing the door gently and quietly behind him.

He found Hermione curled up by the fire with a book when he entered the Common Room. She hadn't bothered to change, he noted, and was dressed in comfy pajama bottoms, a tee-shirt and a loose robe.

"Hermione," he said softly, and the eleven-year-old witch looked up, eyes not focused on him.

"Harry," she said, smiling. "Good, you remembered. Take the Cloak off so I can see you."

With one fluid motion, Harry ripped of the cloak, and Hermione closed her book and got to her feet to meet him.

"Ron came by," she said. "His hand was pretty bad. Mentioned he was going to the Hospital Wing."

"Yeah, I got him to," Harry explained to her. "He still wanted to go with Norbert, but he had to get that hand treated."

"We knew only two of us could fit under the Cloak anyway," Hermione pointed out. "Three is pushing it with Norbert under it too. I was planning to stay, but I guess I'll go then. I don't think you should go alone."

Harry smiled weakly, relieved that he would not be alone in the dark tonight. He wasn't sure how he'd handle. "Thanks Hermione," he said sincerely, trying to hide the relief from shining in his eyes.

If Hermione noticed, she didn't mention it.

"Shall we go?" she asked, nodding to the Cloak in Harry's hand.

Harry nodded once in as a response before throwing his father's Invisibility Cloak over them both, causing the pair of them to disappear into thin air.

~O~

Heaving Norbert's heavy crate up Hogwarts massive stone steps had to have been one of the hardest things Harry had ever had to do. Forget homework, he'd take Charm's practice and Potions work over this any day.

It also didn't help that not a bit ago the moon had been obscured by some clouds and no longer shone in through the castle's windows.

He felt a shiver run up his spine as the shadows around him seemed to shift.

"Nearly there!" he whispered choppily to his friend, a bit out of breath, as was Hermione. They had almost made it up to the tallest tower by now, and it was well past midnight, far as Harry could tell. His legs felt like they had weights on them.

Victory was in the air as they reached the last flight of staircases. Finally, they were just a few steps away from ridding Norbert from their lives. Harry was practically ecstatic. He was so done with worrying about Hagrid and the illegal baby menace.

But all happiness quickly disappeared as a movement ahead of them made them freeze.

Someone was up ahead.

Although they were invisible, both he and Hermione wordlessly began to back into the shadows simultaneously, away from whoever it might be before them.

They waited a moment, holding their breath to keep silent. Hands clammy, Harry tightened his hold on Norbert's crate to prevent himself from mentally breaking down from the darkness of the shadows that had enveloped him.

He couldn't think about that now. Think about light. Think about getting rid of Norbert.

Anything but thinking of the dark.

Or the blackness of its robes…

The green light that follows…

He shook a bit at the thought, but forced himself to stop.

_Stay strong, Harry._

Biting his lip, he focused on the hallway ahead.

A moment later, McGonagall appeared, dressed in a bathrobe and dragging—could it be?—Malfoy by the ear.

Malfoy!

"Detention!" her shout rang shrilly amongst the once peacefully-quiet halls. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you-"

"You don't understand, Professor!" Draco's half-whimper of a response came pleadingly."Harry Potter's coming - he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on - I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

With furious strides, the Gryffindor Head of House led the Slytherin boy out of sight.

With a look of glee, Harry glanced over at Hermione, his own excitement mirrored in her eyes.

"No way!" she mouthed.

Harry grinned and nodded, before nodding in the general direction of the last flight of stairs to the tower.

Hermione nodded twice in understanding, and regained her grip on Norbert's crate.

Trying to keep in their giddy happiness at this new-found, glorious information, the two students finished their leg with Norbert and surfaced into the tallest tower, feeling the cold night air on their skin through the Cloak.

Harry shivered, but managed to hold back a slight whimper, gratefully setting Norbert's crate down.

Hermione then happily threw of the Cloak, setting down her half of Norbert's crate as well and dancing around, a giant smile on her face.

"Malfoy's got detention!" she laughed. "I could sing!"

"Don't," Harry advised her, rubbing his sore hands warily, though he too was smiling.

Malfoy, sneaking around trying to bust them but getting caught by McGonagall of all people?

What could be better!?

Laughing and celebrating quietly, the two first year Gryffindor's waited for Charlie's friends in a happy silence, Harry still beaming lightly.

After a few minutes went by though, and the initial bit of happiness he had been feeling over finding his enemy had gotten busted, he began to get a bit apprehensive.

It was dark. And cold. The frigid air seemed to be digging into his very bones, and the darkness seemed to be closing in…

Cold, dark, night…just like that night in his nightmare when…when…

_No!_ No, he wasn't going to let himself freak out! Not when they were so close to getting rid of Norbert. Not when Hermione was here.

He didn't want her to realize how weak he was.

The time seemed to be dragging on, though. Darkness…blackness…cold…

A shiver ran up his spine and he felt his heartbeat increase.

Sweat started to drip down his forehead. His hands had begun to become clammy…

_Hurry up, Charlie! _He thought frantically. _Please, before I—_

_ WHOOSH!_

Much to Harry's relief, just before he lost it, four broomsticks suddenly swept out of the night in a rush. Harry felt himself relax a bit and his shoulders slumped, taking a big intake of breath to calm himself.

_You're okay, Harry, _he told himself gently. _You're okay._

After a small-talk chat, Charlie's friends graciously picked up the small dragon, dividing the crates weight evenly between them on a contraption connected to their brooms that they had rigged for him. Before long, they took off with a small wave of goodbye, disappearing into the night as before.

Hermione and Harry waved after them for a minute, before turning to head back down to the Gryffindor Common Room, beaming with victory and—in Harry's case—happiness upon getting inside the castle, where a few torches at least lit the interior.

Feeling loads better now that the weight of Norbert and the apprehension of the darkness was off his shoulders, Harry climbed down the steps slowly, thinking he was more than ready to go back to bed, hopefully where he would be warm and snug and free of nightmares.

Unfortunately, that was not to be.

As the two of them reached the bottom of the stairs, they were met by a grinning, gleeful Filch, looming in the darkness Harry so much dreaded and flanked by a sparkly-eyed Mrs. Norris.

"Well, well, well," the caretaker said, grinning happily. "We _are_ in trouble."

With a seizure-like feeling gripping his heart, Harry's blood suddenly turned to ice.

Oh. Oh no.

They had left the Invisibility Cloak at the top of the tower.

They. Were. So. _Dead._

~O~

Eleven o'clock.

They were due to serve their detentions at eleven o'clock. He, Hermione and poor, upset little Neville, who had got caught up in the disaster as well.

Detention.

At eleven o'clock at night.

Outside.

Harry could not think of a worst punishment. Holding the little slip of parchment McGonagall had handed him, strewn with her curvy handwriting, he read it with dread.

_Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall._

He swore his heart stopped.

His hands had become sweaty just reading it.

He didn't think he'd be able to handle this. He didn't even know what they were doing.

All he knew was that it was outside in the night and dark, and even here, now, during the day in the Great Hall with light flooding in from every window, he felt more terrified than he had ever felt before. And that was saying something.

This was bad. Very, very bad.

All day, it haunted him. All day, his very soul was poisoned with fear about what the coming sunset would bring. Even the insults and shunning he received from losing so many points for Gryffindor was nothing compared to it. His dread was too great; his fear, all consuming. He couldn't pay attention in class at all, and his hands shook every time he picked up his quill to write.

Despite his best wishes that the time would never, ever come, though, classes ended for the day, dinner was served and not long after, the sun set.

All that was left to do then was wait.

He, Ron and Hermione holed up in their usual spots by the fireplace, trying their best to get some studying and work done before Harry and Hermione had to leave. Ron's hand was completely healed now, thanks to Pomfrey, and he no longer had any excuse not to write, though he still held a quill rather gingerly.

Harry could not seem to concentrate though, and after a few minutes he gave up and packed up his things, curling into a ball in his armchair and breathing in and out slowly to try to keep a handle on the heightened emotions and fear that had exploded in his bloodstream the moment the sun had stopped coming in through the windows.

He shifted a bit closer to the fire and its red blaze, closing his eyes and falling into a light, dreamless sleep, temporarily unworried by his nightmares. A small blessing.

It seemed he had only grabbed a few minutes of rest, unfortunately, before he felt the slight touch of Hermione's hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake.

"Wake up, Harry," she whispered kindly. "It's time to go."

Harry's eyes flickered and he groaned, sitting up correctly in his chair with reluctance. He rubbed his eyes and fixed his slightly-bent glasses wearily, before looking up blearily at Hermione.

"It's eleven already?" he asked, frowning.

Hermione nodded solemnly in affirmative, standing straight and resigned in a pair of jeans and a warm jumper. Neville was standing behind her looking just as solemn, his eyes focused on his shoes and saying nothing.

Harry felt a rush of dread run through him for the umpteenth time that day, now doubled tenfold.

It was time to go out. Into the night.

Into the darkness.

For who knew how long?

The thought of setting foot out there at eleven at night made him shiver. The idea of being out there for a long period of time serving some sort of distasteful detention Filch had cooked up? Unthinkable. His hands had already begun to sweat just from thinking about it and he was still by the fire, although its light was already beginning to die as the fire dwindled.

It might have been his imagination, but Harry could have sworn the room had suddenly grown colder.

He took a breath sharply, trying to get a hold on himself.

_Remember how to keep a hold of yourself, Harry, _he reminded himself seriously. _Just like back at the Dursley's. Don't make a sound, keep an even, controlled breathing pattern, and avoid looking at the shadows. Focus on something comforting and familiar and you'll be just fine._

His mental peptalk calmed him down a bit and he straightened his posture.

"All right," he said bravely, eyes determined. "Let's go."

Hermione nodded once, her bushy hair falling into her eyes a bit as she did. For once, she did not push it back and instead ignored it, turning on her heel and nudging Ron awake as well, who was slumped in an awkward position over his arm chair.

"Wha' Mum? It's not time to get up already, is it?" the redhead murmured, eyes half open as he shifted a bit at Hermione's touch. Harry cringed as he almost fell off the chair.

"I'm not your Mum," Hermione said sternly, sounding more like herself for a moment, and not the rejected, solemn Hermione she had been since losing her part of the house's points. "I'm just telling you that we're leaving."

Ron blinked, staring up at Hermione for a long moment in partial understanding, before muttering a half-uttered, "Okay," and curling back up on the chair and closing his eyes.

Hermione rolled her eyes and murmured something along the lines of "honestly," before continuing on her way toward the portrait hole. Neville and Harry followed her, and soon the trio was heading silently through the halls to the entrance hall.

With great difficulty, Harry managed to keep his fear in check throughout the entire trip. It was much harder than it had been when they were getting rid of Norbert, for then he had had the heavy crate to put his focus into and it had kept him from noticing how dark and cold it was. But now, with nothing to distract him and neither of his companions speaking a word, everything seemed much more accented and noticeable. Every shadow seemed to inch toward him with black, deadly claws. The light of the torches seemed to shrink away and get dimmer the further they travelled down the hall. The suits of armor loomed, their axes threatening…the darkness was beginning to close in…cold dominated his very being, digging into his bones...he was freezing—no, he was frozen!—and shaking almost uncontrollably now and—

_ Stay calm, Harry. Focus on Hermione's hair in front of you. Focus on Neville's shoes. Focus on your breathing. In and out. In and out .Slowly. Slowly. Slow it down, you're hyperventilating…so dark…CALM DOWN! Slowly…breathe…breathe…there. See? You're almost at the entrance hall._

And so he was. Taking deep, slow breaths and repeating those same internal pep talks to himself throughout the final stretch of the walk, Harry, Hermione and Neville successfully reached the entrance hall, where-sure enough-Filch stood waiting, holding a lamp in his right hand.

And next to him, stood Malfoy.

Harry's stomach twisted in dread at the sight of him. Consumed by his fear of going out in the night, he had completely forgotten that Draco was serving his detention with them too!

This was going to be his worst nightmare.

No, that wasn't right. Harry shivered at that thought. Nothing was worse than _his _worst nightmare. But this…this was beginning to come very, very close.

They began to walk. Harry's nerves were so on edge he thought he was about to explode and he had to physically force himself to move out through the double doors as Filch pushed them open, cringing as the cold of the night met him in an unsympathetic rush.

They began the journey across the dewy grounds of the school in silence as Filch went on and on about the old punishments they used to give and how the students these days got off easy. Harry hardly heard him. The moon was out, but on occasion clouds would scud across it and throw them all into darkness. It was moments like these that Harry's heart froze and fear ran down his entire being, almost freezing him on the spot. Only his forced, evenly calm breathing and strong willpower kept him going. That did not prevent his heart from racing, however.

Before long, Filch ran out of things to say and finally shut up, leaving the quiet sounds of night to meet their ears for the remainder of the trip.

They continued on quietly in the direction of Hagrid's hut, or so it seemed, though Harry found it hard to tell in the dark. His heightened fear made it hard to distinguish anything without light.

He needed someone to say something. Say something, anything at all. He didn't know why, but all of a sudden the silence seemed so…deafening! Like the crickets had suddenly stopped chirping and now there were no sounds at all. Now the entire world was silent, just waiting for…something. Something to approach, something to happen, something to appear out of the night and point its weapon at him and and—

"The stars are very pretty, aren't they?" Hermione's timid, soft voice broke the silence and cut through Harry's peaking freak out. Relief flooding through him at the sound of another human's voice beside his own internal voice, Harry's shoulders slumped and he turned to her, surprised to see her walking next to him. He hadn't noticed.

"Yeah, I suppose they are," he agreed quietly, matching her level of volume.

"Well, at least look at them before your compliment them!" Hermione scolded, frowning at him in disgust. "You aren't even looking."

Harry frowned at her urging but obediently looked up above him to behold the stars overhead.

And somehow, he found himself immediately transfixed.

He had never looked much at the stars before. He had never bothered. In fact, he had avoided looking out the window at night all together for the most part. It unnerved him most of the time, and it wasn't like you could see the stars from the Dursley's anyway. There was no point.

But here, it was different. You could see the stars as bright as day from way out here. The shinned above like little angels, each with their own light, twinkling above them in a majestic form of pattern that only they knew the formation of.

It took his breath away.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Hermione whispered, sharing in his wonder now that she had gotten him interested. "I've always found stars so interesting. You can pick out so many pictures in their formation, if you look closely. See? Right there. Do you see the centaur?"

Harry followed her finger and squinted above her, trying to make out the half-man half-horse she was somehow seeing in the spacing of sparkling stars, but only saw random dots.

"No, I don't see it," he said, disappointed.

"Look again," Hermione urged. "Watch my finger. See? Here's his lower half." She traced the outline of the horse's body. "And here's his upper half." She traced his human side.

Harry's green eyes widened as the picture revealed itself to him. "Now I see it!" he exclaimed.

"See?" Hermione said, smiling. "You just need to look harder. Look over there. See that clump of stars? That's Gertrude the Giant. And over there? To the right of the hexagon-shaped clump? That's a fairy. Do you see them?"

Harry looked closely and could actually make out the shapes and pictures Hermione described to him. He nodded. "Yeah," he said, impressed. "That's really cool."

"I read it in an Astrology book I got from the library," Hermione explained in her typical manner. "Would you like me to point out more?"

"Yes, please," Harry said quickly, suddenly realizing how calmed and relaxed he was at the moment, despite the darkness and cold. Hermione's lecture on the stars had distracted him from his fear.

"Okay," Hermione said cheerfully. "Over there, that's a troll. See its big club? And that's Pegasus over there, that's a fairly easy one to see. Oh! And there's the Stag of Light, above the troll."

For some odd reason, Harry felt his heart skip a beat.

"Stag of Light?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Hermione said, tracing the outline of the majestic animal with her finger, eyes sparkling in the light of the stars. "It's legendary in Wizarding Astrology and Divination, actually. It's said that the Stag of Light is a symbol of protection against evil and darkness. It stands in the middle of the sky no matter where you are in the world, and its majestic light—see how the stars that make it up are a tad brighter than those around it?—will keep you safe from the night and its dangers."

"Psh," Malfoy snorted from behind, causing them both to jump. "Stupid Gryffindor's. That's just a dumb myth. Like a star formation can actually _protect _you from something. It's a load of hogwash, if you ask me."

"Well, no one _did _ask you, Malfoy!" Hermione exploded angrily, glaring at him and crossing her arms, face red. She said nothing more.

Harry frowned, ignoring Malfoy's comment completely and taking all that Hermione had said in slowly, digesting all she had just told him carefully, though he did not know why. Something about the symbol of the stag had peaked his interest more than the other star formations, and now, it was all he could think of.

A stag that symbolized protection against evil and darkness. A protector, a protector of light that defended against the darkness.

It reminded him of something. Something that he had thought about before. Something else that protected something…something else that defended against the darkness…

He searched his mind, trying to find what it was that he was thinking of, but couldn't put his finger on it. It was there, taunting him, just out of his reach. He just couldn't think of it.

Regardless, he couldn't help but stare at the Stag for a long moment, taking in its light and shape and memorizing the position of its proud head, adorned with starry antlers.

There was something about it that just…calmed him. He felt more relaxed than he had before, and even when he looked away, it seemed like the shadows were no longer after him and the darkness was no longer penning him in.

With a warm feeling that Harry had not been anticipating, he suddenly felt…safe. _Safe_, out here, in the middle of his darkest, deepest fears.

Maybe the symbol of the stag wasn't a bunch of hogwash Divination after all.

They had fallen back into silence now as they walked, but Harry hardly noticed. He was calmer than he had ever been during any period of night and for once, didn't even have to remind himself to control his breathing.

In the distance, the looming form of Hagrid's Hut came into view.

"It that you, Filch?" a booming, gruff voice that Harry knew very well sounded out of the darkness, and after a moment, Hagrid appeared in front of them, also holding a lantern and with Fang drooling out his side. "Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Harry felt his heart rise. If they were having this detention with Hagrid, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Filch must have noticed his delight. "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boy—it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

Harry's heart suddenly turned to ice and the warm, comfortable feeling he had felt after stargazing at the Stag left him suddenly and without warning.

The _forest?_

Neville moaned pitifully and Malfoy stopped short. "The forest?" he whimpered. "We can't go in there at night—there's all sorts of things in there—werewolves, I've heard."

Neville was practically reduced to hysterics by this and clutched Harry's sleeve in horror. Harry wasn't feeling too keen about the idea either.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" Filch said, smiling evilly. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Harry gulped at this.

Okay, so maybe this was going to be pretty bad, Hagrid or no.

To his relief, however, Hagrid stopped Filch from continuing by meeting them as they approached, wielding, Harry now noticed, a crossbow in his arms.

"Abou' time," he said gruffly. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harry, Hermione?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," Filch said coldly. "They're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" Hagrid asked, glaring at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit. I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn for what's left of them," Filch said snidely, before turning to start back toward the castle.

"I'm not going into the forest," Malfoy said bluntly.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," Hagrid said sternly. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd—"

"—tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled, not taking his garbage. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle and pack! Go on!"

Malfoy didn't move, simply glaring at Hagrid furiously before looking down.

"Right then," Hagrid said. "Now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the forest and pointed out a slight trail in the greenery, holding his lamp up so they could see.

"Look there," he said, nodding toward a specific little area in the brush. "See that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" Malfoy asked nervously, trying to hide his obvious fear with an angry tone.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," Hagrid assured him. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"I want Fang," said Malfoy quickly, looking at Fang's long teeth.

"All right, but I warn yeh, he's a coward," Hagrid said, chuckling. "So me, Neville, an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Harry, an' Fang'll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now — that's it — an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll all come an' find yeh — so, be careful — let's go."

They began to walk. The forest was black and silent, a factor that made Harry's hands clam up again and forced him to restart his breathing exercises to calm himself. A little ways into it they reached a fork in the forest road and Neville, Hermione, and Hagrid took the left path while Malfoy, Harry, and Fang took the right.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hagrid muttered in a whisper to Harry as they parted ways, "but Malfoy'll have a harder time frightenin' you, an' we've gotta get this done."

Harry sighed and nodded in understanding, but he didn't like it one bit.

Being in the forest at night with a unicorn killer on the loose was bad enough.

But being in the forest at night with a unicorn killer on the loose with a slobbering dog and Malfoy, of all people?

Definitely the worst detention ever.

They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then a ray of moonlight through the branches above lit a spot of silver-blue blood on the fallen leaves. Harry was grateful for the light, but just looking at the blood and imagining what creature had caused it to spill was almost scarier than the dark.

Almost.

As if spurred by his thought of it, the darkness seemed to try to take him over again. A shiver of fear and cold ran up Harry's spine suddenly and he clutched his wand tighter, eyes become shifty and paranoid. The trees suddenly seemed darker, more sinister, now that he looked at them again. There spindly limbs like hands and fingers, clawing at him, reaching for him, grabbing at him—

_Oh no._ Harry's heart sunk as he began to shake and hyperventilate, symptoms he was very used to now. _Not now, not with Malfoy! I can't have a freak attack now!_

But no light was filtering in; the darkness was surrounding him—encasing him! He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't reason anything, couldn't feel his feet moving, couldn't comprehend his surroundings, couldn't hear anything, couldn't—

Suddenly, a patch of light filtered in through the canopy of trees and Harry almost stopped in his tracks as a snapshot of the sky was suddenly revealed to him amidst the dark of the forest and he could see the stars, snapping him out of his peaking panic attack like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over his head.

And not just any random stars.

The Stag of Light.

The Stag of Light was shining bright as bright could be above his head, bringing his climatic panic-attack down to a peaceful level of calm faster than Harry had ever thought possible.

He stared up at the stars for a long moment, eyes wide as he took in the shape of the stag.

_This could not be a coincidence,_ he decided, this spontaneous, purely rational thought exploding in his mind as suddenly as the stag had appeared to him. Before it had even registered what he had saw above him, he had already relaxed, his shoulders slumping and his fear and anxiety leaving him.

How? How could a formation of stars do something like this to him?

Harry could hardly bring his mind to understand the concept of the idea, let alone understand.

Somehow though, deep down, he knew that the Stag was protecting him.

Instantly feeling better, Harry's surroundings corrected themselves in his vision and the darkness seemed to inch a way a bit. He glanced at Malfoy and was relieved to see he had been oblivious to what all had just happened to the boy beside him.

A sense of calm coming over him, Harry glanced up once more at the Stag, before looking ahead with determination and continuing on.

They walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest, until the path became almost impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Harry thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker and with it, the forest even darker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree and with each step; Harry's heartbeat increasing that much more at the sight. He felt a strong urge to run away, right there and then and find a nice patch of moonlight to sit in to get out of the dark. But he suppressed it, thinking about the Stag and picturing it in his head. He instantly felt better.

Suddenly, something caught his eye.

"Look," he breathed, holding out his arm to stop Malfoy, eyes wide.

Something bright white was gleaming on the ground, sparkling majestically in stark contrast to the darkness that encased them. Transfixed, Harry inched slowly closer, Malfoy doing the same, their eyes wide in the moonlight.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harry had never seen anything so beautiful and yet so very sad. Its long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves. Its light and fallen beauty even allowed him to temporarily forget about keeping a hold on his fear.

With batted breath he began to move a bit closer to the fallen animal; eyes fixed on its shimmery form, but froze when a slithering sound to his right made him stop short.

What was that?

A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered in his peripheral vision… and then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like a snake approaching its prey.

Harry, Malfoy, and Fang stood frozen, rooted to the cold, forest ground and unable to move or form a coherent thought as they watched as the cloaked figure reached the newly deceased unicorn, clawing the hard ground with pale fingers and lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side. It hovered there for a moment, before it began to drink the slivery blood that still flowed from the creatures open wound.

**"AAAAAAAAAARGH!"**

Malfoy unfroze and let forth a scream of terror, eyes wide with fear at the nightmare before him before turning and bolting, followed closely by a whimpering Fang.

The hooded figure raised its head slowly, as if disturbed slightly by this cacophonous sound. With terrifying accuracy, its hooded head turned to face Harry, silvery unicorn blood dribbling down its front.

Harry seemed frozen in place. He couldn't move, could not even form the thought of running away.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

And then the figure got shakily to its feet and began to make its way slowly towards Harry, black cloak dripping blood like a leaky faucet.

And in that moment, Harry's nightmare came back to him in a sudden, clear-headed rush.

_The people-his protectors—stood in front of him. A man and a woman, standing between him and a man cloaked in a robe of midnight black, sown by the night itself._

_The man—no, the creature!—came slowly forward and the man and woman stood before him bravely, protecting Harry from the evil and the swirling blackness of night that was his ally._

_Harry felt no fear, for he knew that the man and woman would protect him._

_But to his horror, the evil man struck the man and woman down in a flash of poisoness green and they fell, leaving only air between Harry and the night's vengeful servant._

_The robed figure came closer…_

The cloaked figure was getting ever closer to him…

_He couldn't move, couldn't even let out a cry…_

He couldn't bring himself to force his arms to move. It was like he was enchanted, held in this one place until the enchanter allowed him to move, powerless over his body and speech.

_And as the figure proceeded, the nightlight next to his crib went out, and for the first time, Harry experienced total darkness._

The darkness had completely incased him, adding to his fear of the figure and bringing him to the peak of ultimate fear, a fear more pure, more horrific than any of his nightmares had ever made him endure. His every molecule was filled with unholy, earth-shattering horror!

_The figure lifted its wand…_

The robed figure was pulling out a wand…

_His forehead was suddenly on fire. Pain enveloped his entire being._

It was like a hot iron had suddenly been placed on his scar. It burned with pain that ran up his whole being, millions of little knives stabbing at every nerve in his frame.

_And then, in a flash of green, everything went dark._

And then…

And then…

And then there was light.

A cloud shifted in the night sky above them and suddenly the Stag of Light burst forth, showering Harry and the figure in its ghostly light. A barrier of angelic light burst forth between Harry and the figure and the cloaked man stumbled back, as if unable to stand the brilliance of the light.

Harry was too stunned to comprehend what had just happened.

Had...had the Stag…? Did it…did it just…?

Before he could even begin to finish the thought, the hooded figure began regaining its bearings, correcting its posture and getting a hold of itself, turning to face Harry again.

Suddenly, Harry was able to move.

He stumbled backwards, his legs oddly numb, clutching his wand tightly. His green eyes were wide with fear as he backed up slowly, afraid to turn and bolt for then his back would be a target. The figure had a wand and Harry would bet quite a few Galleons he knew how to use it.

The cloaked person kept advancing and soon, Harry stumbled out of the protective circle of light created by the Stag.

Immediately his scar flared in flaming pain again, frying his forehead and causing him to cry out.

He stumbled back into the stars' light.

Instantly, the pain subsided.

Harry didn't know how, but somehow the Stag's light was protecting him from the figure's influence, stopping the horrible pain in his scar from returning and leaving him vulnerable, hurting and surrounded by darkness, his ultimate fear and weakness.

He needed to stay in the light.

But he also needed to get away from the figure.

It was close to him now, still moving very, very slowly but no doubt advancing, wand arm raising the closer it came. Even in the light of the Stag, Harry could not see its face, and it sent a shiver of fear down his spine.

He was protected.

But he was also trapped.

"_Harrry Potter…" _a low voice hissed, coming from the cloaked figure. _"I knew one day this day would come."_

Harry's whole bloodstream seemed to freeze and he backed to the very edge of the starry circle, holding his wand shakily out in front of him.

"Stay away from me," he commanded, though his voice wavered.

The figure laughed, a combination of a hiss and a choke. _"A petty, begging command. You really think that you can stop me? Even in this state, I can easily kill you and will enjoy doing it. Yesss, very much."_

He came forward so that he was not very far from Harry now, about a yard, his wand now level with Harry's head.

_"You still carry the scar," _the voice hissed. _"How fitting. I think I will like it, seeing that mark as I kill you."_

He moved his wand closer, aiming for Harry's forehead, but Harry intercepted it with his own wand, either out of instinct or out of pure fear. Which, he wasn't sure.

"No," he said firmly, this time without a hint of waver in his voice.

The figure cocked his head, like what Harry had said was actually mildly interesting. _"No?" _it hissed.

With a fire starting to rise inside of him that he hadn't known he was cable of creating, Harry looked up and let the image of the Stag fill his vision, giving him strength.

"No," he said again, looking back down at the figure with a stony gaze, his eyes reflecting the Stag. This time, his voice did not sound like his own. It sounded older, more confident and relaxed, like he had these kinds of confrontations all the time. "I won't let you touch him."

If the cloaked figure was shocked, it was nothing compared to how shocked Harry was.

Had he just referred to himself in third person?

_"What kind of madness is this?" _the figure hissed, hand tightening its grip on its wand.

"Not madness," Harry said, though he had no idea where these words were coming from. "It's actually quite simple. You can't touch him. Not while I'm here."

_"What are you talking about, boy?" _the robed man demanded, taking a step back in pure bafflement. _"What madness do you speak of?"_

"Oh, don't you remember?" Harry said, smiling a cheeky, cocky smile that was also not his own, relaxing his posture in a flippant sort of way. "You should. You meet me briefly. Remember? You knocked down my door. I blocked your way from your goal and you killed me. You continued on and killed my wife, and tried to kill my son. But you failed didn't you? And now you want to try and kill him again. Well, you can't. Not while I'm still protecting him."

The cloaked figure stumbled back even further. _"Impossible!" _it shrieked.

Harry was thinking the exact same thing. He had not thought those words. He didn't even know what he himself was referring to. He hadn't died. He didn't have a wife…or a son…

Who…?

And then, with a rush of cold, his dream returned to him for the third time that night.

His protector…protecting him from a dark figure…being struck down…

_Yes, Harry, _a soft, gentle voice said in his head. _You're thinking right._

He looked back up at the sky, eyes wide and glinting with awe as he stared at the Stag of Light above him.

"Dad?" he whispered, in control of his voice again.

_"What?" _the cloaked figure hissed in shock, but Harry hardly heard it.

_Yes, son, _the voice said in his head, warm and lilting, reminding Harry of the warm fire back up in the Gryffindor dormitory. _It's me. How's it going, back down there with the living?_

"How?" Harry breathed, feeling his fingers go numb. From cold or from shock he didn't know. "How're you…? The Stag. You're talking to me somehow through…through the Stag."

_Close, _his father's voice said, chuckling. _I __**am **__the Stag. Or at least, my spirit can connect to the world through it. I'm not really sure how it works, so don't ask. Anyway, the stories you've heard about it are true. I can protect you from any evil in the night while you are within my sights. While the Stag of Light is above you, I will always be there to protect you, Harry. Or anyone else for that matter, but that's beside the point._

Harry's breath had gone shallow. He could hardly believe it.

His Dad—who was dead, he reminded himself—was talking to him. In his mind. Through a glowing mass of stars forming a Stag thousands of miles above his head.

It was a little much to wrap his head around.

"Are…are you possessing me?" Harry asked, the question spluttering out of his mouth without much forethought.

His father laughed. _Sort of, _he said. _I guess you could say I'm protecting you by possessing you, but at the same time letting you have some control of your body. Can't let you have full of course—I have to have some to talk to you like this—but not full possession. Just…think about it like I'm your shield._

"Okay," Harry managed to get out, not completely comprehending what had just been explained to him, but not about to push it.

An agitated hiss broke their half-mental half-verbal chat and Harry turned his attention back to the hooded figure, renowned fear running up his frame as he remembered what was in front of him.

The cloaked man from his nightmares.

_"I do not know what kind of magic this is," _he hissed. _"And I do not care. I will no longer stand for this…madness. You will die, Harry Potter. Now."_

The figure raised his wand, preparing the curse, but Harry's wand met his, moving with a mind of its own.

_I don't think so, _his Dad's voice said in his head. _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_

Before the figure could even utter a word, a white stag burst out of Harry's wand on its own accord and charged the hooded man with its ghostly horns aimed at its chest, causing the figure to stagger back and fall from surprise.

"Not on my watch, Voldy," Harry hissed at the fallen figure in his Dad's voice, before his whole body spun so that it faced the dark forest, his toes at the very edge of the Stag's circle of light.

_Go, _the voice of James Potter said in his head. _Run. I cannot protect you outside of my light, but you will be safe from this man for now. That I can promise._

Harry hesitated, looking at the dark forest, fear running up his spine for the umpteenth time as he imagined sprinting off into its clutches. He bit his lip.

_Don't be afraid of the dark, Harry, _his father's voice said softly, as if he had been reading Harry's thoughts. _It can do nothing to you. The only thing you have to fear is fear itself. Remember that. And remember that nothing in the night can hurt. Not while I'm here._

_ Will I ever see you again? _Harry asked him mentally, green eyes welling with tears. _Er…I mean, talk with you again?_

_ Who knows? _James laughed again. _Only the planets know, I guess. See you around, son._

"Good-bye, Dad," Harry whispered, before he summoned all his courage and sprinted off back into the forest the way he had come.

He didn't look back.

~O~

"Harry! Harry, are you all right?"

Hermione's worried voice reached his ears as he finally came to the edge of the forest and burst out from the trees. He stopped only once he was completely free of the forests' dark embrace, hands on his knees as he tried to regain his breath. Hermione ran forward with wide eyes, asking him frantically if he was all right.

"I'm fine," Harry said truthfully, beginning to catch his breath. "Fine."

"Blimey, Harry," Hagrid boomed, coming up behind Hermione with Fang at his side and a clearly frightened Neville and Malfoy behind him. "Malfoy tol' us wha' he saw… but…wha' in the name of Merlin di' yeh see?"

"I don't know," Harry said breathlessly, though he was lying through his teeth and he knew it. _Not on my watch, Voldy… _That's what his father had said. Voldy.

He had a very bad feeling that that was Voldemort, and not some cute cuddly animal from a pet shop in London.

But he didn't tell Hagrid that. He didn't want him worried, and he definitely did not want Malfoy to know. He'd tell Hermione and Ron about it later.

Or at least most of it. Harry had absolutely no idea how to explain the Stag.

The others seemed to relax a bit, seeing that he was all right.

"Well, whatever tha' thing was, it clearly wa' the thin' that wa' killin' them unicorns," Hagrid mused. He sighed. "Guess there's nothin' ta do 'bout it now. Go on, yeh four. Start up back ta the castle. I'll be righ' behind yeh."

He gestured toward the castle and the four students began to make their way back without compliant. All of them wanted to get back to their dormitories as soon as humanly possible.

Despite it all though, Harry was feeling incredibly light hearted. It took him a good five minutes to figure out why.

But then it hit him.

The darkness wasn't bothering him at all. His heartbeat was normal, his breathing was even and his shoulders relaxed.

He wasn't scared. It was night and he was outside and it was dark as dark could be, and he was perfectly all right and as fearless as a warrior.

The feeling that rushed through him just then made him want to yell and jump for joy like a madman.

He had conquered his fear.

He was no longer afraid of the dark!

Hermione must have noticed an odd expression on his face because she frowned and looked at him strangely.

"Are you sure you're all right, Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, grinning wide as he looked up and caught sight of the Stag of Light overhead, sparkling as bright as the sun above him. As he stared, he could've sworn that the Stag's starry eye winked.

He smiled, looking back down and focusing on the looming form of Hogwarts ahead, green eyes sparkling in the light of his fathers' Stag. "Fine," he said.

"Better than fine."

.

.

**(A/N: QUICK DISCLAIMER!**

**This is an AU version of two chapters in J.K Rowling's Sorcerer's Stone (or Philosopher's Stone, whichever). The chapters are chapters 14 and 15, Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback and The Forbidden Forest. I DO NOT OWN! The Stag of Light and its legend is my invention and I DO OWN! NO STEALING!**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Mermaid)**


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